The dust in the arena settled.
The officers marched onto the field, not to congratulate, but to segregate. Those who had ranked below 100—the "Material Grunts"—were escorted toward the side exits. Heads down. Shoulders slumped. Their destiny now was to carry crates, clean cages, and serve as human shields. The dream of glory ended there, in the dirt.
Only the Top 100 remained.
They lined up in the center of the arena, a formation of survivors hardened by the island.
Above them, the hydraulic system groaned. The mirrored glass, which until now had been an impenetrable wall, began to slide upward slowly.
The interior of the VIP box was revealed.
Inside, in the luxurious dim light, stood the true power of Team Rocket.
The Executives were assembled behind were Archer, Ariana, and Petrel.
But they weren't alone. The gathering was a terrifying display of influence. The Iron-Masked Marauder (Vicious) stood near the back, arms crossed, flanked by the organization's twisted geniuses, Professor Sebastian and Dr. Namba.
Even the corrupted pillars of the Indigo League were present, watching from the shadows—Lt. Surge, Sabrina, and Blaine.
And standing closest to the center, the handler of the Shadow Unit: Nero.
They all exuded an aura of untouchable power.
But only one person stood up.
He walked to the edge of the balcony. His suit was Italian, tailored to perfection. His gaze was calm, almost bored, the look of a man who had the entire world in his pocket.
Giovanni.
The silence in the arena became religious.
"Congratulations," Giovanni said. His voice wasn't loud, but it filled the space like gravity. "And welcome to Team Rocket."
He rested his hands on the railing.
"Many out there call us criminals," he continued, with a faint smile of disdain. "They call us villains. But Team Rocket, at its core, is the only fair organization in this world."
He looked at each of the 100 survivors.
"In the Pokémon League, you need connections. You need money. You need to smile for the cameras. Here? Here, the only currency is competence. The harder you work, the higher you rise. Accept suicide missions, bring results, capture the impossible... and I will give you the world."
He paused, his gaze hardening.
"Currently, we are involved in projects that will change the face of humanity. From genetics to the manipulation of space itself. We need soldiers. We need leaders. And today, you have taken the first step to becoming both."
"Thank you."
The arena exploded in applause. It wasn't polite applause; it was fanatical. Military salutes were slammed against chests. "Glory to Team Rocket!" echoed off the stone walls.
Giovanni nodded once, turned his back, and vanished into the shadow of the box.
The glass slid shut.
Enzo lowered his hand. The speech was good. Efficient. The kind of corporate rhetoric mixed with a cult of personality that created blind loyalty.
Viper approached the podium where the top three stood.
"Rank One, Two, and Three," Viper said, his voice low. "With me."
The other 97 recruits watched with envy as Enzo, Proton, and Ronnie followed the Instructor out of the arena, through a gold-plated door that no other recruit was allowed to use.
They entered a room that smelled of mahogany and expensive cigars. The floor was covered in Persian rugs. On the walls, oil paintings of Legendary Pokémon—Articuno, Zapdos, Moltres—loomed over them.
At the far end of the room, sitting in a leather armchair, was Giovanni.
Beside him, standing like a shadow, was Executive Nero.
And in front of them, on a long oak table, were dozens of Poké Balls.
Each one had a small hologram floating above it, displaying the image of the Pokémon inside.
They were the Starters.
From every region. From Kanto to Paldea. Fire, Water, Grass.
"Your first reward," Giovanni said, without standing up. "The tool that defines an Elite Trainer. Choose one."
Ronnie almost drooled. Proton tried to maintain his posture, but his eyes shined.
Enzo approached the table. His heart beat a little faster. It was the first time he had been this close to Giovanni, even counting his past life. The pressure the man emanated was real.
But Enzo focused on the table.
System, he thought. Scan.
The blue interface flared in his retina, sweeping over the Poké Balls one by one.
KANTO:
Bulbasaur: Potential GREEN
Charmander: Potential GREEN
Squirtle: Potential DEEP GREEN
JOHTO:
Chikorita: Potential GREEN
Cyndaquil: Potential GREEN
Totodile: Potential GREEN
HOENN:
Treecko: Potential GREEN
Torchic: Potential GREEN
Mudkip: Potential GREEN
SINNOH:
Turtwig: Potential GREEN
Chimchar: Potential GREEN
Piplup: Potential GREEN
UNOVA:
Snivy: Potential GREEN
Tepig: Potential GREEN
Oshawott: Potential GREEN
KALOS:
Chespin: Potential GREEN
Fennekin: Potential GREEN
Froakie: Potential GREEN
ALOLA:
Rowlet: Potential GREEN
Litten: Potential DEEP GREEN
Popplio: Potential GREEN
GALAR:
Grookey: Potential GREEN
Scorbunny: Potential GREEN
Sobble: Potential GREEN
PALDEA:
Sprigatito: Potential DEEP GREEN
Fuecoco: Potential GREEN
Quaxly: Potential GREEN
Enzo frowned, discouraged.
All Green?
He had expected... more. He hoped for a Blue, maybe a hidden Purple. But it made sense. To Giovanni, these were standard resources to hand out to promising subordinates. He wasn't going to give his god-tier specimens to freshly graduated recruits.
Enzo's eyes stopped on the Mudkip.
The temptation was enormous. Swampert. A monster. The Water/Ground combination was nearly perfect, only weak to Grass 4x. It would be the ideal defensive anchor for the team.
But Enzo hesitated.
He had a plan. For the future he was designing—for the urban infiltration missions and the tactical dominance the Shadow Unit required—he needed something specific.
His plan restricted the choice to three Pokémon on that table.
He looked at the Mudkip. He looked at the other two. Doubt gnawed at him. If I pick Mudkip, I gain raw power, but I lose tactical utility. If I choose the other one...
He was stuck.
Enzo took a deep breath, straightened his back, and turned to Giovanni.
"Sir," Enzo said, his voice respectful.
Giovanni raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Rank One?"
"I ask permission to yield my turn," Enzo said. "I would like my colleagues to choose first."
The room went silent.
Proton looked at Enzo as if he were insane. Ronnie stopped trying to touch a ball.
Giovanni leaned forward, surprise visible on his stoic face. No one yielded an advantage in Team Rocket. No one.
"You are a strange boy, Enzo," Giovanni murmured. "Either you are very arrogant, or very calculating." He smiled slightly. "But I like curiosity. Granted. But if they take what you wanted..."
"No problem, Sir," Enzo replied.
Giovanni gestured to Proton. "Rank Two. Choose."
Proton stepped forward, nervous. He knew Enzo had given him a golden opportunity, or was using him as a guinea pig. Either way, he wouldn't waste it.
Proton looked at the table. He discarded the Fire types immediately. Too loud, too bright. He looked at the Water types. Froakie? Interesting.
But his eyes were fixed on the Grass types. He was undecided. On one side, Bulbasaur. The classic. Poison and Powder. Perfect for Proton's dirty fighting style. On the other hand, a small green cat from Paldea. Sprigatito.
Proton reached out for the Bulbasaur.
No, Enzo's voice echoed in Proton's mind.
Proton jumped, startled, looking around.
Trust me, Enzo's telepathic voice said, clear and firm. Choose the Sprigatito.
Proton looked at Enzo. The leader's face was impassive. Proton swallowed hard.
He hesitated. Bulbasaur was the safe choice. But so far, following Enzo had taken him from "nobody" to "Rank Two."
Proton changed the direction of his hand at the last second.
He picked up the Poké Ball of the Sprigatito.
"Interesting choice," Nero commented, silently approving the future speed and Dark-type that would come with the evolution.
Proton stepped back, holding the ball.
"Rank Three," Giovanni said.
Ronnie stepped forward. He didn't have Enzo's paralyzing analysis or Proton's malice. He functioned on pure instinct.
He saw Proton with a cat Poké Ball. He thought: Cats are cool.
Ronnie went straight to the Fire section. He saw the Litten. The fire cat from Alola.
Enzo, who was watching, widened his eyes slightly. He had been torn between Litten and his other option. Incineroar was one of the best support and tank Pokémon in the world. Intimidate, Fake Out, Parting Shot... it was a war machine.
And Ronnie, with no instructions, no system, without thinking twice...
"I want this one!" Ronnie said, grabbing the Litten ball.
Enzo almost sighed with relief. The idiot has divine luck. Incineroar fits his chaotic fighting style perfectly.
Now, it was just him.
The table had more empty spaces. His options had been reduced. The Mudkip was still there, looking at him holographically.
But with Litten out of the equation, Enzo's doubt vanished.
The plan was decided.
He needed speed. He needed versatility. And he needed something that, when it evolved, would cover the glaring weakness of his current team against certain elemental types.
Enzo walked to the table. He walked past the Mudkip. He walked past the Charmander.
He stopped in front of a specific Poké Ball near the end of the line.
He looked at the hologram. It was a choice few made in Team Rocket because it required patience and precision, not just brute force.
Enzo picked up the ball.
"I choose this one," Enzo said.
Giovanni looked at the choice. And for the first time that night, the Boss frowned, genuinely surprised.
"That one?" Giovanni asked, his tone skeptical. "Are you sure, Rank One? "
Enzo smiled, tightening his grip on the Poké Ball.
"Yes Sir, thank you" Enzo replied.
Enzo clipped the ball to his belt. The choice was made.